A Little Off The Top
by Siskin
Summary: Where do brooding blonde swordfighters go to get their hair cut? Takes place a few weeks after AC. Minor revisions 3/20/10


Disclaimer: FFVII not mine.

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A Little Off The Top

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The bell jangled as the door opened.

The bright lights in the little barbershop made it a warm refuge from the dull, foggy gray day outside, but the shop was empty except for the man sweeping the floor. Joe didn't even have to look up to know who his customer was; the measured tread of boots was clue enough. "Hey, it's been a while."

"I got a little busy." The long coat was hung up with a heavy rustle on the coat rack.

"I hear it." Joe waved him toward a chair. "Glad you came in, Cloud, it's been a slow day. Have a seat; I'll be with you soon as I'm done with this."

Cloud chose the seat furthest from the window, as Joe had known he would. The barber finished sweeping, put the broom in the corner, and walked back toward the chairs in front of the mirrored wall. He passed under the sign on the wall ("Adults—50 Gil, Children under 12—30 Gil") and grabbed a cape off the rack. "Still raining?" he asked, glancing at the dreary grayness out the windows.

"A little."

"Wish we'd get some sun for once. Chin up." Cloud lifted his head. Joe flicked the cape around his shoulders and snapped it in place. He picked up the scissors. "Jeez, you've kind of let it go, haven't you?"

A faint snort answered him. "Like I said—"

"—you got busy, yeah. Just the usual?"

"Yeah."

Joe snipped carefully. "Still doing the delivery service?"

"Yeah."

"Business good?"

"Pretty good."

Joe grinned. "Still staying with that girl—what's her name? Tira?"

"Tifa."

"Yeah, her. Tip your head down."

Cloud lowered his head. "…I wasn't for a while. But I'm back there now."

"Ahh… hope it wasn't anything too serious."

"No."

Joe chuckled. "Well, good. We kind of wished you'd bring her around more often."

Cloud, head still down, glanced at him sidelong in the mirror. "Where's Arthur today?"

Cloud was watching Joe's face, and he saw the shadow that fell on it as the snipping paused. He felt a twist in his stomach. "…What happened to him?"

"Geostigma." Joe moved around the chair, trimming back the unruly spikes that fell over the right side of Cloud's face. "Hit him all of a sudden, poor guy. One day he was fine…the next, there he was with that goddamn black rash. He didn't dare come in—afraid he'd spread it to customers. The news services kept saying it wasn't contagious, but he didn't believe it.

"And then he was just gone. Just a couple of days before they started spreading the cure around." Joe sighed and came around in front of Cloud, shortening the spiky bangs. "His wife's had to go back to work—my wife's been watching their kids. When her brother finishes his contract in Kalm, he'll find a job here so he can help them out. Wish there was more I could do for them, but now that it's just me here, I can only do so much." He tilted his head, lightly tapped Cloud's chin to get him to turn his head a little, and took off a couple more short snips. Then he moved aside so Cloud could see in the mirror. "That okay?"

Cloud looked into the mirror, but his reply was slow in coming. "Yeah." He was silent as Joe pulled the cape off and took it to the back to rinse off.

Cloud got up slowly and went to get his coat. He slung it on, feeling the prickle of loose hair bits under his collar, and pulled his money out of an inside pocket.

Joe came back to the front just as Cloud finished counting out Gil. "Well, come by again soon, would you? And bring Tifa." He winked; Cloud answered it with a raise of his eyebrows and an amused roll of his eyes. He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket, handed Joe the money, and headed for the door.

The bell jangled again. Joe was walking toward the cash box when he heard Cloud speak from the doorway. "There's only so much any of us can do." Then the door thumped shut.

Joe sighed and opened the cash box. He looked at the money in his hand—and almost dropped it. It wasn't 50 Gil; it was 5,000.

"Holy—" He darted to the door and pushed through, making the bell clang out in protest. "Cloud—"

Cloud was already on his bike. As the motor growled to life, he looked back over his shoulder. "Keep the change." Then he drove off.

Joe stood blinking in the drizzle, clutching the money in his hand as the motorcycle faded into the gray haze.

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The End

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End file.
